Damaged
by Chimala
Summary: An Obeah practitioner is plagued by visions of a doomed ship. She sets out to find the crew and warn them about their fate, but ends up entangling herself in it. Post CotBP, ignores DMC. Criticism welcome.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Only the prologue will be in 'diary entry' form, as I thought it would be the best way to introduce my character. Sorry, not much about Jack in this, but he will be making an appearance in the next chapter. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

X

Dear diary,

This is my first entry. The date is May 5th, 1739. It is somewhere around four or five in the morning, and everything seems very calm now. I awoke with a start again. It was the same dream that woke me, the same nightmare, only more vivid and real. And the same man. This time, he died from frostbite, along with the rest of his crew, in the middle of what seemed to be the artic ocean, judging by the harsh temperatures and the abundant icebergs.

I don't think I can take it any longer. With each dream came a different form of death. The first one, I remembered, included the crew, along with its ship, being sucked into a massive whirlpool. It's driving me mad. I have to find that man, the 'Jack Sparrow' character. He seems to be the one that's leading these men to their deaths in every dream… it's difficult to explain, but I suppose I should start from the beginning, the very beginning.

My name is Mildred Bonny-Rackham, but I tend to call myself just Mil. I turned nineteen two days ago, and I still look as if I am a girl of ten because of my height.

I am the daughter of Anne Bonny and Jack Rackham, who were both pirates. I don't know much about them, but I do know that a man who goes by the name of Jonathan Barnet captured them both in October of 1720, in St. Jago de la Vega. My father and his crew were immediately sent to the gallows, while my mother was spared because she was with child, the child being I.

Shortly after she gave birth to me, she left me in Barnet's care, and then vanished without a trace. Barnet was a man who did not care for pirates, and neither did he care for their progeny. Instead of welcoming me into his family circle with open arms, he made me the priority of the maids of his household, and I was wet-nursed and taken care of by a woman named Amelia until I was six.

From then on, I was nothing more then a scullery maid. It was my job to clean the floor and the kitchen supplies. Because of my low position in the hierarchical order, the rest of the servants usually ignored me. I was actually rather relieved by this, as I had witnessed some of the other young female maids being harassed by the older butlers and valets. When I was eight, I befriended one of Barnet's daughters, Virginia, who was a few years my senior. She later taught me some of the basics of reading, writing, and arithmetic, until Barnet found out about our camaraderie and made sure that Virginia never spoke to me again.

When I was twelve, I climbed up the ranks to a between maid, meaning that I no longer had to work around the clock. I had Wednesdays and half of Sundays off duty, and I spent that time regularly visiting the natives that lived a few miles down the road from Barnet's estate. I found myself particularly fascinated with Obeah magic after being exposed to it by a woman who only went by the name of Mother. If I could, I would write down everything about her, every single detail, but I am afraid that I just do not have the time.

We met in a rather peculiar way. I had been planning on visiting a young girl who I had recently become acquainted with, and was making my way to the place where we would usually meet. I had merely passed by Mother, who had been resting upon a bench outside of her home, when she leapt in front of me, grabbed my head, and told me that she could "feel something" about me. At the time, I thought she was a lunatic and was honestly scared beyond words by the fact that a neurotic old lady was grabbing on to my skull.

Much to my surprise, she showed me things that I never knew were real. She taught me things that I believed to only exist in fairy tales. It is not something that I can describe with simple letters and words, diary. It is simply something that one has to experience. Mother told me that it is called Obeah.It is rather difficult to explain everything, and as I mentioned earlier, diary, I do not have time for fine details, so here are the barebones:Obeah is a bit like hoodoo, Palo, and Santeria. It involves work with roots, herbs, minerals, and tapping into supernatural forces, in order to do things such as conversing with the dead, creating charms or casting hexes upon people. The latter would prove to be my undoing.

Nearly a year after meeting Mother, I felt that I was confidant enough with my Obeah skills to try a small curse. I wasn't planning on gravely damaging anyone; I just wanted to teach a certain chambermaid a lesson. The girl's name was Lorena, and she was an awful little smart arse, forgive the language, but she really knew how to strike a nerve. What I wanted to do was to cast an enchantment that caused insects and vermin to be attracted to her. But in order to do said enchantment, I needed to say a quick incantation and throw a mixture of Bitters and Fool's Parsley in her hair, so I came up with the ingenious idea of sneaking into her room in the middle of the nightto do the ritual.

Naturally, I was caught. And not only was I caught by Lorena, but I was also reported to Barnet, who did not hesitate one bit before throwing me out of his estate, warning me that should I ever come back, he would make sure that I was hung for witchcraft.

Ashamed and disappointed that my hex didn't even have an effect on Lorena, I dragged myself back to Mother, who chastised me as well, saying that I was not experienced enough to try such curses. However, she still allowed me to live with her, and she continued to teach me until her death. She taught me more then just Obeah. She taught me extensive reading and writing skills, philosophy, and she made me read several books that I could not have possibly come in contact with, had I been working in Barnet's manor, such as The Canterbury Tales, and Persian Letters. One of the books was a strange script called The Voynich Manuscript. It was written in an unknown language, but Mother claimed to be able to read it. Perhaps I shall write about it in a later entry, for time is running out now. The sun has already risen.

But I digress.

Mother passed away two years ago. By then, I was capable enough to care for myself, but I still found it difficult to carry on with life. She had taught me many valuable lessons, and not just in enchantment, but also in life. I continued to practice Obeah since she passed, and have to say that I have much improved.

But on to the dreams. They began six months ago, after I tried, rather unsuccessfully, to conjure the spirit of my deceased father. I don't know if that was what brought on the dreams, but that was when they started. At first, the dream seemed rather blurry and vague, and it was difficult to understand what was happening, but I identified the feeling of destruction and havoc… death. As the dreams progressed, the setting and the events became clearer, until I could plainly see what was happening, as if I was right there witnessing it all in real time. The scenarios would be diverse. In some, the men would be devoured by a whirlpool, as I had mentioned at the beginning of the entry, and in others, they would be struck by vicious bolts of lightening and be electrocuted.

Each dream was different, and yet certain things stayed the same. The dream always took place in the middle of a large body of water, an ocean I would presume, and on a large ship that I perceived to be called the _Black Pearl_. The victims were always the same people, as well. By now I know all of their full names, but the most prominent one is named Jack Sparrow. At least, that is the man whom I know the most about. I know strange, unimportant things, such as his drink of choice, which seems to be rum, and the color of his bandana. However, one thing that I know seems to be significant. He is after Atlantis. Why, I do not know.

I know that these dreams are more then just thoughts and imaginings. I know that they must be visions of some sort. And I know that I need to find this man soon, before he destroys himself and his crew.

…Alright, I admit this sounds absolutely ridiculous. I am embarrassed in spite of myself. I am going after, quite literally, the man of my dreams. I don't even know if this 'Jack Sparrow' exists or not. I could just be chasing after a wild fictional character created by my sub-conscious.

My mission is rather futile, I know this, but every last fiber of my body is urging me to go after this man, this 'Jack Sparrow', whoever he may or may not be. And furthermore, this is quite a good excuse to leave St. Jago de la Vega (at last!) and finally see the rest of the world, wouldn't you agree? I am feeling rather restless here, in any case.

Yours truly, Mil.

X

**A/N:** OK, that's the prologue. Tell me what you think? Constructive criticism!


	2. Niblet

_Tortuga, six months later…_

"Well, what I knows about Cap'n Sparrow," The man swayed forward, causing me to pitch back,thinking he was going to fall on me, but he regained his balance. "What I knows, is that he…" The man stopped talking, and his eyes took on a glazed look.

"Yes? Yes!" I grabbed the man's beefy shoulders, shaking him, urging him to go on, but he just passed out. I sighed with exasperation and let him fall to the soiled ground.

I wrinkled my nose and began to walk away, when I felt a hand grab my ankle. I didn't have to look down to know that it was the drunk.

"I might knows where he be," The man chuckled leisurely, still wavering in between unconscious and aware.

"Where? Where is he?" My heart was racing, my eyes wildly scanning the crowds that filled Tortuga's streets. This was the closest I'd gotten to an indication of Jack Sparrow's whereabouts within months of searching for this elusive Captain. And the fact that this man was actually validating the existence of Jack Sparrow, validating that I was in fact _not_ insane… well, that was beyond description. If I ignored the possibility that this man was drunk beyond rational thinking, and the chance that he might just be trying to take advantage of me, it was a sign of fortuity, without a doubt.

The man didn't say anything, only pointed ahead of me with one grubby finger. My eyes shot to where he was pointing, and sure enough, there he was, strolling into a pub. Mind you, it was just the back of him, but I knew instantly who he was, I could tell by his eccentric way of walking. I freed myself from the intoxicated man's grip and made a mad dash towards Jack Sparrow.

I was only a few feet away from the bar that he was entering, which was called some silly name like _The Blue Parrot_, or _The Gunfight_. Suddenly, I found myself hesitating. What would make him believe my story? I didn't doubt for a moment that he would assume I was a few birds shy of a flock, or whatever other cliché he could think of. After all, I was about to go up to this man, who I've never really met before, and tell him that I had been having visions of him and his crew being killed while out at sea.

What were the chances of him believing me? Slim to none, I'd say. Only a hopeless little girl desperate for adventure would attempt such a blatantly stupid thing. Quite lucky that I was hopeless, desperate and blatantly stupid, or else I wouldn't have done it. But now, how was I supposed to approach Jack and tell him? I very well couldn't just scuttle up to him and blurt everything out. He'd never believe that. I would have to be careful not to scare him away when approaching him, and be even more careful when telling him about my prophetic dreams.

I took a deep breath, adjusted my posture, and clutched onto my bag like it was my life force before entering the crowded, smoky tavern. The heavy scent of alcohol hit me immediately and I nearly gagged. And not even minutes before entering the bar, I was shoved aside by a burly man with a woman on his arm, but I shouldn't have been so stunned by this. I was in Tortuga, after all. And it was nighttime, too, the busiest time in the pirate town. That was when the harlots came out to play, and so with them came the vulgar pirates and sailors, and with _them_ came the brandy, gin, mescal, rum, tequila, vodka, whiskey, whatever you please. Suddenly I felt myself longing for a cold, mouth-watering Kirschwasser.

Shaking a loose piece of hair out of my face, and ignoring my tempting thoughts on liquor, I made my way through the throng of leering men and women with crimson lips, fairly used to the sight by now, trying to find the ever-evasive man once again. I scanned the crowds, but there were so many people, so many men wearing the same damned tricorne. I rolled my eyes at my own incompetence to keep up with this one man. How hard can it be to keep tabs on _one solitary man_?

My question was quickly answered as my target sauntered right in front of me, catching me completely off guard, causing me to throw everything I had just planned to the wind. Not wanting to lose him again, I yelled out, "Jack!"

Due to my naturally quiet voice, I was afraid that he hadn't heard me. But he stopped dead in his tracks, seemed confused for a moment, before turning and looking around with a look of puzzlement written on his face, searching for the one who called out his name. It was him, no doubt about it. Every detail down to the number of charms in his hair was the same. No matter how much I had prepared myself before, this caused me to take in a quick breath of astonishment. I brushed the feeling aside just as I had brushed away that free wisp of hair.

"Er, Sir… Mister… Captain Sparrow?" I waved my hand tentatively. He strode toward me with a slow and rather awkward gait, but I figured it was probably because he was drunk, and somehow it didn't surprise me.

After invading my personal space, he studied at me with a cryptic look before simply saying, "Yes?" I took a timid step back.

'…Blast!' I could feel my innards cringing. 'Blast, blast, blast, blast, blast! What do I say? Alright, quickly, introduce yourself,' I cleared my throat.

"Um, alright, my name is Mildred, or, Mil, and I, um, I have been… how should I put this? I have been…" Lord, I felt like such an imbecile. Jack grimaced and looked me up and down. 'Oh, wonderful, now he thinks I'm crazy.'

"I-I have been searching, um, for you?" It came out as more of a question then a statement. I no longer knew what I was saying and suddenly began to think that perhaps I was better off staying in St. Jago de la Vega then wasting my time here.

He tilted his head to the side before a wicked grin lit up his kohl-lined eyes. "Have you, now?" His voice was teeming with amusement. It was either that, or he was trying to be suggestive. I was never good at playing games.

I frowned and shook my head. "Oh, no," I laughed uneasily. "See, I-" I laughed again, probably making myself sound even more insane. "I've been having these dreams about you," His smile grew broader.

"Ah! No!" I realized how much that sounded like an innuendo. "About you, and your crew!"

"My crew?" He quirked a brow, his smile disappearing.

I gave an inward sigh of relief and a small smile. "Yes, you and your crew," I nodded.

"I'm not sure if they are that type of crew…" He paused, and then shrugged dramatically. "I could ask-"

"No!" I shook my head. "No, not that kind of dream," I looked around for an empty table. "Um, perhaps we should sit," I gestured for him to follow me as I seated myself at a table situated in the corner of the pub. He sat across from me, the impish smirk still imprinted on his face.

I folded my hands in front of me and set them onto the table, leaning in closer so that no one else would eavesdrop on what I was about to say. It wasn't that it was privileged information, but I didn't want anyone else hearing me talk about visions and supernatural powers.

I cleared my throat again, a nervous habit. "Alright, um… alright. When…" I licked my lips. "When I say that I've been having dreams, I mean that I've been having, um, visions, if you will," I paused, trying to interpret his expression, but his face was obscure, his narrowed eyes and crooked smile showing me nothing. I wasn't sure whether I should be reassured or worried by this. Deciding to fret about it later, I carried on. "In these visions, you and your crew were out at sea, on your ship, which is called the _Black Pearl_, if I'm not mistaken," I paused to see if he was going to say anything, but he didn't.

I shuffled in my seat and pulled at my cloak, which seemed uncomfortably tight around my neck. "That was the only thing that stayed the same. In each dream," I swallowed, trying to put this delicately. "In each dream, you… died," I choked on the word, inelegantly sounding like a duck.

Jack leaned back in his chair and raised his brows. "Well… that would be a problem, now, wouldn't it?" He didn't look even somewhat uneasy, as he muttered, never losing eye contact with me, "Give me a reason as to why I should believe you, niblet," He maintainedan unnerving cool.

Luckily, so did I. Actually, I was fairly eager to prove everything to him, and by now, I was anticipating for him to be shocked and awed by me, and to instantly offer me a place on his ship. Just the thought caused my stomach to flutter.

"Not a problem at all," I sounded nauseatingly enthusiastic, and leaned in even closer so that I was nearly standing up off of my chair. "During these dreams, I would gather small fragments of information about you and the party with which you sail. Tell me if this is true," I paused for effect. "When you were younger, you aspired to be a cartographer. Your favorite drink is rum, and one of the men on your crew is exceptionally short. What was his name? Oh yes, Marty," I leaned back, just as Jack did, feeling pleased with myself.

"Anyone could've told you that, after all, I am rather well-known in these parts," He gave me a tight-lipped smile.

"Alright, so that is rather general information. But what about this: I know that you are planning on locating Atlantis, and, I know that-"

"Who told you that?" He interrupted me. He still didn't seem troubled, as I wanted him to be, but he seemed curious.

"Who told me what?" I wrinkled my nose, another habit. "Oh, right, about Atlantis. Well, did I not just say that these dreams revealed information to me?"

His gaze was so concentrated that it made me uneasy. "What else do you know?" he retained that composed, indifferent tone of voice.

"I know that a member of your crew had his tongue cut out and has a parrot who, albeit inaccurately, communicates for him," I paused, trying to recall the name. "The name was something strange, like a type of cloth?"

"Cotton," Jack said as-a-matter-of-factly. "Mr. Cotton. Alright niblet, you have my attention," I was sure I could sense some sarcasm. "So you're having these dreams. What is it that you want me to do about them?"

I sighed. This was going to be more difficult then I expected. "Please, please don't go searching for Atlantis. It's on that journey, I think, that you are going to meet your end, at least if you're not careful," An idea struck me. "Or you could take me with you…"

"If those are my choices, I suppose I'll be extra careful then, aye?" He flashed gold-capped teeth at me.

"I don't think you understand just what you'll be up against," I began to get annoyed by his teasing. "Do you even take this seriously?"

"Suppose I think you're lying," He tilted his head slightly, reminding me of a bird that a friend of mine had owned. It was always twitching and screeching, it was bloody infuriating. "Suppose I think that someone told you I was searching for treasure, and you, wanting the treasure all for yourself, want me to take you with me, so that you'd be in on the plunder,"

Right when he said that, I felt three things. I felt embaressment that heknew my not-all-that-secret wish to join him. I feltdisappoinment from not being able to convince Jack Sparrow of his impending doom. But most of all, I felt indignation that this self-possessed man was so… well, self-possessed. More often than not, I had a calm, almost non-existent temper. I hated confrontation, and arguments were my weak point. But this man struck a nerve.

"Suppose you're regretting those words while you're out at sea, being consumed by a whirlpool. Or suppose that while having your entrails devoured by some monster, you wish you'd heeded my warning," I jeered before getting up to leave. What a waste of time this was. Why was I even trying to help this boorish pirate in the first place? I didn't know him; he was neither a friend nor relative nor even acquaintance. And yet, as I was walking away from him, I felt a sharp pang of guilt, and I knew that I didn't want to leave so soon. That, and the fact that going back to St. Jago de la Vega would mean a life of boredom and monotony. Boredom and monotony, versus pirates and treasure. I made the obvious choice a long time ago.

I sighed at my own lack of common sense, and then turned around, to find him still sitting there, his arms crossed, looking extremely arrogant. He _looked_ arrogant. Unbelievable. "Please," I tried once more. "Just let me prove it to you. Take me to your crew. I'll tell you things about them that even you don't know," I paused, hoping he wouldn't catch my next bluff. "You don't have to take me along to Atlantis, but I could give you some invaluable advice along with a few trinkets that you might find useful on your journey," I felt nervous about lying to a pirate, but it was my last hope.

Jack studied me with those inscrutable eyes. "You're rather scrappy," He said as he stood from the chair and walked up to me. "I like scrappy," he snaked his arm around my neck, having to hunch over slightly due to my diminutive height. "But that doesn't mean that you have a welcome spot on my crew, niblet," he began to walk out of thepub and I really had no choice but to follow.

Questions were floating in my mind like pesky little bugs. What did he mean by that? Was he taking me to his ship? And just what was a 'niblet'?

X

**A/N**: Did anyone catch the Casablanca reference? No? …Well… review… and remember I welcome any sort of constructive criticism!


	3. Difficult

**A/N:** LOL I'm glad that someone noticed the Casablanca thing… if you're reading this right now, go and leave a review on my other chapters! I want feedback. Mild DMC spoilers in this.

X

When I reached the gangplank of the ship that I assumed to be the _Pearl_, I felt my stomach do a flip due to a mix of excitement and fear from not knowing what would happen next. After all, pirates were not known to be of the congenial type.

On the deck, which was full of activity and a slightly rancid smell, the easily recognizable Joshamee Gibbs gazed down at me with a cagey stare, before looking at Mr. Sparrow as if he had gone mad.

"Cap'n, don't you know it's bad luck-" Mr. Sparrow interrupted him, waving his hands and mumbling incoherently.

"Yes, yes, bad luck having women aboard," He suddenly turned more serious, as serious as a man like him could've gotten. "And she'll be off in a moment. But before that," Mr. Sparrow pushed me forward slightly. "She has somethin' she'd like to share with you,"

Mr. Gibbs crossed his arms over his portly chest and smirked. I cleared my throat, as usual, remembering what I had quickly practiced in my head. "Your name is Joshamee Gibbs. You are thirty-six as of this October, and you carry a pouch containing a small bone from a black cat, for good fortune. This pouch is tucked behind your vest, and you rarely take it out, unless you need a change of clothing. Oh yes, and you go by your surname instead of Joshamee," I nodded as I finished speaking.

During my little speech, I watched his expression transform from amused to distressed. "I… I don't believe we've been properly… acquainted," He paused. "Have we?"

I gave a jovial smile. Everyone loves jovial girls, don't they? "No, we have not. My name is Mildred Rackham, or just Mil, if you please," I gave my usual introduction, along with a slight bow of my head. I noticed Mr. Gibbs' face change once more when he heard my name, but he didn't say anything.

"Niblet claims she's been having dreams about us, predictive ones," I found myself pondering about way Mr. Sparrow bobbed about while he talked, waving his arms and swaying. It seemed like a sign of motor disorder. I shook my head to rid myself of the thought. I was always being clinical like that, diagnosing every person I met.

"Predictive?" He glanced down at me again, this time with condemnation. "A witch?" He didn't attempt to be quiet about the accusation.

I interrupted to conversation quickly. "No, no, not a witch. I practice Obeah, although it's similar,"

Mr. Sparrow had that sideways smile on his face again, and he kept looking from me to Mr. Gibbs. An awkward silence promptly ensued.

"What sort of dreams have you been having, miss?" Mr. Gibbs finally asked, having taken a step back now and looking even more suspicious of me. I chalked it up to him being a superstitious man, and therefore concluded that I would have to be careful when explaining my nightmares to him. I didn't want him to be any more distrustful of me, as I didn't need to make any enemies amongst pirates.

x

Every member of the crew stopped what they were doing and listened to my retelling of the nightmares I had had. Albeit, it really didn't take me longer then a few minutes to give them the general picture of the dreams, so they didn't miss much of their work.

"Prove it! Prove that these visions of yours are really true," A young man, who was really younger then myself, called out. I sighed, having to go through this process yet again.

I scanned the group, and my eyes landed on a man with vibrant red hair and contrasting green eyes. "That man," I had to stand upon the tips of my toes and point, as he was standing in the back of the assembly. "His name is Peter Abrahams, he is twenty as of June, and he is impotent,"

Mr. Abrahams looked distraught as the entire crew turned to stare at him with a mix of hilarity and sympathy while the man turned the same color as his bright red bandana. I cringed. "Oh, I suppose that was something you had not shared with your company," I pulled my shoulders close to my chin in shame, but luckily that degrading bit of information convinced the crew.

"Then what do you propose we do with her, Captain?" Mr. Gibbs asked.

"I propose, that we leave her in Tortuga. She'd only be a burden, and we already know all we need to know from her," Mr. Sparrow said, with the usual dramatic gestures.

I was shocked. "No!" I cried, placing my hands on my hips and stomping my foot like a difficult child.

"Niblet," Mr. Sparrow pressed his palms together and changed his tone so that now it sounded like he was poking fun at me. "Niblet, niblet, niblet. I am forever _indebted_ to you, after all, you've saved the life of me, and my crew," He put his hand on my shoulder and began to lead me off of the boat. I planted both of my feet firmly and refused to move. I turned to face the amused members of the crew.

"Well, good luck then with the Sirens," I said calmly. A smirk tugged at my mouth as I saw the expressions of the crew become somewhat worried. Even Mr. Sparrow, although he looked more thrown then worried with his narrowed eyes. I smiled amiably once again. "Oh yes, you shall need all the good wishes in the world," I paused, praying to God that they would believe my outright lie. I really wasn't sure if there would be Sirens waiting for them. "However," I added slyly. "If you had a woman on board with you, she would be able to resist the Sirens' allure, subsequently being able to keep you from being taken by them. Also, I could help you locate Atlantis. I am a skilled Obeah practitioner," This was, of course, another lie, but I didn't care about sinning anymore. I just wanted them to believe me.

Mr. Sparrow barged in just when I was about to tell them another bluff. "Yes, but we already have something that will show us where Atlantis lies," He grabbed my wrist and placed a compass into my hand.

"A compass," I opened the lid and snorted. "That doesn't even work properly," The arrow was moving around wildly, unable to settle on a direction to point in.

"Ah, but it does," Mr. Sparrow said as he looked over my shoulder at the conked out compass. "It shows the holder what they desire most," He lifted his eyebrows comically. "Apparently you're rather indecisive, love,"

I snapped the compass shut and shoved it into Mr. Sparrow's chest. "Alright, so you have a compass that will point you in the general direction of what you desire, but what if you could know all the obstacles you'd encounter on your journey there? All of the detours, and the countries and islands and cities where you could, er," I paused, unsure of the proper phrasing to use. "Make… port… in," The men all gave me a quizzical look. "You know what I mean, a place to rest and gather supplies. I know all of the right cities," It wasn't really a fib; I did know a few cities. It was more like an exaggeration.

Mr. Sparrow gave me a smile that some would call good-natured, while I would call it strained. "And how would you be so sure of where all these 'right cities' lie?"

I put my bag on the ground. "It's your lucky day, Mr. Sparrow, as…" I pulled the drawstring open, revealing all the books that I had taken from Mother's library. "I was smart enough to do my research before coming here," I pulled the drawstring closed again. "I might divulge some of this information to you on one condition," This was it, if Sparrow would agree; I was finally liberated from St. Jago de la Vega.

"Name your terms, niblet," He said.

"Term," I corrected. "I just have one," I bit my lip. "Make me a part of your journey and I will tell you everything,"

Several complaints rose from the crowd of pirates, who were strongly in opposition to the idea of a woman sailing with them. I held my ground. Sparrow raised his hand to silence the crew.

"What can you do?" He asks, his hand absentmindedly playing with the hilt of his sword, making me nervous.

"In what way do you mean?"

"Are you experienced in swordplay?" He asked. I shook my head. "Can you use a gun?"

"I have terrible aim, sir," I confessed. This was true; I couldn't aim and shoot if my life depended on it.

He held up a finger as if to stop someone from speaking, and then tottered forward slightly. "Captain, Captain Sparrow, not sir," He continued talking before I had a chance to correct myself. "Are you on familiar terms with ship jargon?"

I furrowed my brows. "I'm sorry, I don't underst-"

"Do you know where port and starboard are?" Gibbs simplified the question. I shrugged. "Do you know what a spar is?" I bit my nail and shook my head again.

"Then what can you do?" Mr. Sparrow- _Captain _Sparrow, I made a mental note to get used to addressing him as such- asked.

"Well, um," I wrung my hands. "I was a scullery maid for a good part of my life, so I am good at preparing meals. I also know how to perform a very crude surgery, if needed. I can clean, and of course, I am skilled in magic, and I am quite well-informed on your destination," Another mental note- stop lying so much to people. It will only get you in trouble.

"If you are so skilled in magic, then show us a trick," Marty, the midget, had called me out. In truth I had no right to call him a midget when comparing him to myself, as I was only about ten inches taller then he, perhaps less.

"Oh…" I felt my stomach do another flip. "I can't, I need materials and ingredients. Besides, isn't it enough proof that I've been having these prophetic dreams about you?" I turned to Captain Sparrow. "Do you want the whereabouts of Atlantis, or do you not?"

He sighed, rolled his eyes, and looked at his crew. "Well, do you or do you not?" He asked them. A few of them looked at each other, consulted briefly before yelling out, "Aye!" I couldn't help but grin with elation.

Captain Sparrow traded mysterious glances with Mr. Gibbs and told his crew to get back to work, before turning to me curtly. "A few things before you join our motley crew, love," He pushed me down so that I was sitting on top of an upturned crate. "Since you're only a guest, you won't be needing to worry about the Articles of piracy. However, because you're a guest, I have the right to maroon you at any moment should I notice that you're not performing your duties, savvy?"

"Yes, yes," I nodded enthusiastically. Captain Sparrow simply gave a theatrical bow and then walked away. I stood up, brushing myself off, now left wondering what I was supposed to do next.

"Oh, yes, one more thing," Captain Sparrow said, turning around. "The location of Atlantis, which you promised to disclose…"

"Yes, I did promise," I nodded, my head getting sore from all the nodding. "This might take a while, and you might like to sit while I tell everything to you,"

"Of course," Captain Sparrow said, once again wrapping his arm around my neck.

x

When we entered his cabin, the first thing I noticed, after the dim lighting and the stuffy smell, that it was rather lavishly decorated, even with a vanity. What purpose he needed a vanity for, I didn't dare ask.

He seated himself at a desk cluttered with maps and devices that I wasn't familiar with. I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a locked wooden cabinet, most likely where he kept his alcohol. I knew I would be raiding that soon.

As there was only one chair, I remained standing, and emptied the contents of my bag onto his desk.

"I brought with me somewhere around fifty to sixty texts, all containing information about Atlantis, as well as other subjects that may be useful to you. What I learned was that the most probably location would be near Santorini," I pointed at the small island on the map that was lying on Captain Sparrow's table. "Santorini is located in a cluster of islands called the Cyclades, which exist in the Sea of Crete. This would suggest that we must sail across the North Atlantic and through the Mediterranean Sea. The journey across the Atlantic would be very long, a month or two, so we would need more supplies-"

"And what makes you think that we have a poor supply of… supplies?" Captain Sparrow asked, placing his fingertips together and giving me a sidelong glance.

"W-well, fr-from what I see, I-I don't think we would have enough food," I stuttered, and waited for him to say something. When all that proceeded was silence, I went on. "Continuing. We would only need enough to get us to the Mediterranean. Once we pass through the Strait of Gibraltar, or even before that, we may stop in, say, Casablanca in Morocco, or in Terifa in Spain," I paused. "But, these are all simply suggestions," I said, and then moved to a different subject.

"Now, on the topic of my dreams. They seemed to be revealing to me that you and your crew would perish on these waters, but they never specified one precise way. So, I've thought about every possible situation that your crew may endure, and I've come up with several incantations and charms to protect from these trials and tribulations. However, for these incantations and charms to be able to work properly, I would require a few materials. I went ahead of myself and created a list," I pulled out the catalog of equipment from my bag and placed it in front of him. "I may need to make a quick stop in a botanicals shop, but otherwise, I will be out of the way for the majority of this voyage, unless you need me. Is there anything else that I might need to know?"

Silence. "Captain Sparrow?"

He stared at all the books scattered on his desk, moving his jaw lightly, apparently deep in thought. His dark eyes grew slightly wider. "When you told me you did your research, you really did your research…" He said in a slow, almost trance-like tone. Suddenly, it was as if he had switched characters and became very animated, throwing his arms out, nearly hitting me. "I've made a brilliant choice," Then he stood up wordlessly and started walking out of the room. Confused, I watched him.

He turned around, seeming exasperated. "On the other hand, perhaps this choice was not so brilliant," He said, leaning against his doorway.

It took me a moment before I realized that he meant for me to follow him. I grasped that concept with a loud, "Oh!" and swiftly went after him down the halls of the ship.

x

The room that I was meant to stay in could be optimistically described as dreary and realistically be described as cramped with a putrid odor. Then again, I was told that I was lucky as the rest of the crew had to sleep a floor below mine, where the stench was even worse. On the right side of the room was a small bed that lined the entire wall, just small enough to fit me. In the left corner sat a desk with a small quill, inkbottle and a single candle. Upon further inspection, I found the ink to be watery and thin, rendering the quill as useless.

I placed my bag on my desk, along with my books, which I had recovered from Captain Sparrow's cabin. I hadn't brought a change of clothing with me, and now I was regretting it, as I had spent the last six months in the same white cotton dress, the same cloak and the same boots, which I always kept tightly laced. It dawned on me then that I hadn't removed my boots since my departure from St. Jago de la Vega, and then I become conscious of the fact that I probably didn't smell like a bed of roses either.

As I removed my footwear and my cloak and climbed into my minuscule cot, I felt a rush of relief come over me like a wave. Unfortunately, that relief didn't last very long. The slow pitching of the ship eventually gave me an overwhelming sense of queasiness. The ship would go up, and there would be a horrible little pause, and then it went down again a bit sideways. Needless to say, I spent less of the night sleeping and more of it bending over the railing of the ship, emptying the contents of my stomach in front of the entire crew, who, on the face of it, took pleasure watching me suffer.

X

**A/N**: Yep. You know what to do, reader(s). Sorry that this was kinda short-ish. More excitement in the next chapter.


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